The Price of a Bauble
by Heeks
Summary: A short side-story regarding F'nor's assault in Dragonquest, from T'ron's perspective.


_Do not let him anger you,_ Fidranth advised from his weyr's ledge. T'ron scowled at the bronze beast, clearly displeased with even the mention of the oncoming conclave.  
"He's already angered me!" the man growled, "Benden! Constantly flaunting their beasts, their _progress_ – it's unsettling at the best of times, but now?"  
_He will try to commandeer this meeting. You must stay ahead of him. _T'ron took a step back from the dragon's couch and raked his hand through greying hair. If Fidranth was talkative, it only meant that T'ron himself was anxious.

As it was, T'ron had no idea how to deal with the day's events, let alone find a way to appease the other Weyrleaders. Let them think what they would – T'ron of Fort was not a fool, and more, understood that his title as Weyrleader to the eldest Weyr gave him no special benefits when amongst his peers. And now, with B'naj's wherry-gutted actions – if he had caused Benden's leader to lose kin and a wingsecond in the same day –  
_Mnementh and his rider arrive._  
Oh, that was interesting. Fidranth refused to call F'lar by name? One more concern added to the pile, he thought, heading out the weyr.

–

"You're tense, T'ron," Mardra drawled.  
"I have right to be," T'ron replied in a terse tone as he strode purposefully into the woman's private chambers, "B'naj. Where is he?"  
"Oh, around. What did he do this time, hmm?" the woman purred.  
T'ron turned on her, snarling. "You know exactly what he did, woman. Now where is he?"  
"I take it the council meeting didn't go as planned?" Ever the wench, T'ron thought – she refused to even answer him something as simple as where a rider under her thumb might be hiding. _Under her bedsheets, if I had to wager,_ he thought with a hiss. Fidranth grumbled from his position at the Weyr's Rim.  
"You know as well as I do that you had ears listening in. You know how it went."  
"I do. F'nor will survive, and you're to punish B'naj appropriately."  
"You say that as if agreeing to these terms wasn't in my best interests," T'ron said, glancing from the woman to Loranth's couch. The golden queen glared at him. Unnerving, that.  
"Of course it wasn't!" Mardra demanded, "B'naj was simply taking what was rightfully his as custom dictates. That simpering boy-lover F'nor – how dare he interfere with Weyr policy outside his jurisdiction! Benden, always on the lookout for Pern! Pah!"  
"B'naj," T'ron argued, steel setting into his voice, "Has yet to comprehend that we are in a time not our own. Don't you understand, Mardra? They don't need us as much as we'll soon be needing them. Loranth ages uneasily. How many more flights will she have before you lose your rank?"  
"I'll _never_ leave my title, you-"  
"You will," T'ron interrupted, "and so will I. Unfortunately, I feel that time is nearing. B'naj's outburst today was the first step toward our losses. Punish him? I'll do worse than punish him. G'narish is slowly siding with Benden. Ista and Telgar will soon follow – assuming D'ram and R'mart haven't already. We might have saved our chances with those three had that damnable green rider not torn into one of Benden's own, but now? Hah! F'lar knows where the power lies, even if he won't admit it. Now retrieve B'naj, Mardra. I know you're hiding him from me."  
Mardra cursed aloud, spitting at T'ron's direction. "If he comes to harm, you'll never lie with me again."  
"Come now, I'm certain you'll find _someone to keep you company_."  
"Bastard," Mardra spat again.  
T'ron genuinely smiled.

Beth went _between_ before the first glimmer of sunlight fell across the Bowl.  
Loranth gave a harsh keen as dawn broke, only to be echoed shortly thereafter by the rest of the Weyr's draconic population. T'ron fell back against the stone wall of the sparring room, panting. As he dropped the bloody dagger from his feeble-clutching grasp, he stared at the body that lay still before him. T'ron sunk to the floor, swallowing.  
_B'naj, you fool,_ he thought with a grimace, _you could have ducked that blow. Did you deliberately allow that cut?_

One more mark against Fort.  
_T'ron,_ Fidranth ventured, _Thread falls now. Mnementh gives word that his rider wishes to join ranks.  
We don't need Benden. Not today, not after this.  
Of course._ Was that concern or doubt in Fidranth's brassy tone? _Mardra is furious.  
She always is. At least this time, she has good cause.  
It was not your fault, T'ron. B'naj did not duck when he should have. You did not kill him._  
T'ron did not argue, though he knew just as certainly as the bronze did that the dragon was wrong. B'naj may not have dodged, but T'ron as well did not have to aim for the heart.  
_Call the wing. We fly. If Benden interferes...  
Mnementh says they will not. Did you mean it, that we are not needed by them?  
I meant it as much as you meant to comfort me for killing a man. Come, Thread falls. Late for it or not, I refuse to go missing in action._


End file.
